


Vertical Space

by Macx



Series: Imperfection Deviation [35]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Transformers (Bay Movies)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-25
Updated: 2008-07-25
Packaged: 2017-10-19 06:27:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/197939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/pseuds/Macx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of ficlets following the events of Synergy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vertical Space

I've had so many Iron Man/Transformers bunnies taking up residence in my brain, I decided instead of posting ficlets, I'll group them together as chapters :)

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I. Meet and Greet

 

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Virginia Potts, better known as ‚Pepper’ to those associated with Tony Stark, walked down the steps of her employer’s house toward the workshop. It was 7.:10 a.m. and she had arrived at seven sharp to go over the daily schedule with him. Since she hadn’t found him in his office – a place he rarely was anyway – she had two options: search on her own or ask JARVIS, the artificial intelligence that ran the house.

She had opted for JARVIS.

Pepper had been surprised by the answer because Tony was someone who notoriously worked into the night and slept in late. It was almost normal for her to talk about meetings and media appointments with Stark while he was alternatively in the shower, shaving or getting dressed.

This morning he was in the workshop.

“Still or already?” she had asked JARVIS.

“Mr. Stark hasn’t been to bed yet,” was the calm reply.

Figures, she thought. One of the most important shareholder meetings, a presentation of Stark Industries’ figures since Tony had turned the whole company around, and he had lost himself in tinkering with his toys.

Pepper sighed. So typical.

She entered the security code and stepped through the glass door.

Loud rock music washed over her and Pepper winced a little. She should be used to it by now, but every time the sound proof door opened, she was treated to a new variation of Tony’s ‘relaxation’ music. How the man could even hear his own thoughts at this noise level was beyond her. She immediately dialed it down several notches.

She found the workshop in its usual clutter. There were disassembled mechanical parts – of which she couldn’t identify any. There were the cars, one of them the old hot rod. There was the Iron Man armor, hung suspended from chains and hooked up to JARVIS. And there was Tony Stark, eccentric billionaire, her employer, and the most aggravating man she had ever met.

She loved him, no doubt about it. He was a good man, though he hadn’t always shown it. He was a good boss and she had always enjoyed working for him, despite the odd hours and the even odder requests. Of course, he was a flirt. His playboy image had to be maintained somehow. The flirting had always extended to her, like a game played by them, and she had always played back, but it had never become serious.

Since his abduction in Afghanistan he had also changed profoundly and it had made him more human. Though he could still be a prick and an asshole, and usually was with other people, she was one of the few who could see the shadows of the three months he had been kept in that cave. She recognized the nightmares, the pain, and the lingering memories of something he had never really shared with anyone. Not all were of his time with the Ten Rings. Some involved Obadiah Stane, the man who Tony had had to kill to, yes, actually save the world. The man who had been his father and uncle and mentor after his parents had been killed in a car crash.

“Good morning, Ms. Potts,” he startled her out of her thoughts.

Stark was dressed in an old, ratty t-shirt, the black faded to grey, with the arc reactor glowing underneath in an eerie light. She had grown used to its presence. Once you had your hand inside your boss’ chest to unplug something you didn’t care about the glowing spot any more. Equally faded blue jeans and old sneakers completed an outfit no one would believe a man like Stark really wore.

But he did.

At home. Where he felt safe. Pepper knew that the workshop was Tony’s inner sanctum. It was a place only three other people had ever entered. One of them had betrayed Tony.

“Good morning, Mr. Stark,” she now replied formally.

“You tuned down my music again.” There was a mild frown on his sweaty features.

“You have a shareholder’s meeting at eight and lunch with a Mr. Tom Banachek at twelve,” Pepper told him, ignoring the music comment.

“Know that.”

“It’s now 7:20.”

“Know that, too. Still enough time.”

She suppressed a sigh. Of course he knew. He simply chose to ignore that knowledge most of the time.

Brown eyes sparkling with good humor met hers and she wondered how a man who hadn’t slept an hour last night could be this awake. Probably too much coffee and caffeinated sodas.

“Since we have so much time, it’s also about time you get to know the latest member to our exclusive little club…” Tony went on, still in very good humor, “Ms Potts, meet Hot Rod.”

She blinked, slightly confused, as Tony gestured at the silver Audi sports car parked not far away.

“Hot Rod?” she echoed.

“Roddy, say something, or Pepper will think I finally lost it.”

Pepper hid a smile at that. She had never believed her boss to be crazy, just… different. His mind was simply incredible, not to mention his personality. Tony Stark, if he wasn’t the boss of a multi-million company, would be right at home in a research lab with the other geeks. She knew for a fact that simply sitting on a plane he would analyze pitch and thrum of the engine, listen to each creak and groan and know where the mistakes lay. It was simply in his blood. It was him.

“Good morning, Pepper,” a pleasant, male voice startled her.

Pepper stared at the Audi, then turned to give her employer an accusing look. Tony held up his hands.

“Hey, not me. He’s his own.”

“I’m an Autobot,” Hot Rod added.

She had known about the Autobots as long as Tony. Being the personal assistant exposed her to such knowledge. Pepper had been shocked, to put it mildly, and her first face-to-face meeting with the mechanoid life forms had left her awed, but also afraid. Since then contact had been through emails, but never in person again. There had been visits from the human contingent associated with the Autobots, possibly arriving in one of the mechanoid alt forms, but that had been about it.

“Yes, you’re an Autobot,” Tony said with slight sarcasm. “As if you’d be here if you were a Decepticon.”

“I could be hiding,” the sports car pointed out.

“As a Decepticon? Among humans? Actually talking to me… without calling me any kinds of names?”

“They are sneaky. And it’s been known to happen. Like Barricade.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Well, you’re not. And Barricade’s a special case, as far as I understand the whole matter.”

He smiled at Pepper, clearly loving this moment of revelation.

“He’s a good guy.”

“Like you?” she couldn’t help asking.

He grinned more. “I’m the best.”

“That usually depends on who you are asking and what time of the day.”

“You wound me, Ms Potts.”

Pepper looked at the car again, then her eyes were on her employer and friend. “You still have an appointment at eight,” she reminded him.

Tony gave a long-suffering sigh. “Do I have to?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

The puppy dog eyes were enough to make even the hardest man cry, but Pepper had seen them enough to be immune by now.

“It’s your company,” she reminded him. “The one you turned upside down and inside out. I believe attending a shareholders’ meeting to show you’re still as sane as can be might be prudent.”

Tony smiled. “You say the nicest things, Pepper.” He cleaned his hands on a rag, then walked over to the door.

Pepper looked at the Audi, wondering what to say or do. Finally she walked up the stairs after Tony.

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Pepper didn’t know how the man could shower, shave and dress within fifteen minutes and look like he had spent hours on his outfit. Looking like his suave, smooth self, Tony Stark got into the Rolls Royce Phantom, winking at Pepper.

“I’ll call you about your meeting at noon,” she only commented.

“I know I have one.”

“With whom?”

“Banachek.”

“I’m surprised you remember.”

Tony grimaced. “My brain is not like a sieve.”

“I never said so,” she replied.

“I could hear your thoughts.”

“I doubt it. Will this be all, Mr. Stark?”

“This will be all, Ms Potts.”

Then he was off.

Pepper shook her head and went back into the house. She had a tight schedule to manage, but the knowledge of the Autobot down in the workshop was distracting. Nevertheless, work came first. There was time for the meet and greet later on.

 

 

 

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II. That Which Is Tony Stark

 

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Colonel James ‘Rhodey’ Rhodes had known Tony Stark long enough not to be all too upset by anything the man did – or didn’t. Ever since he had been found alive in the middle of the desert of Afghanistan, half delirious, injured, and in bad need of more than just a drink of water, Stark had changed, though. Now the new Tony Stark could shock Rhodes and Rhodey had to learn about his friend anew. He would never forget his own surge of fear at seeing this man in rags, bleeding, staggering through the desert, finally clinging to him like a drowning man.

 

Rhodey had never given up on finding Tony Stark. Part of him was convinced that the man was still alive. He had been the only body missing from the site of the attack and there had been persistent rumors that an American was held by a group called Ten Rings.

Now he had the proof in his arms. Dirty, shaking bloodied proof. Tony was a mess. He was clad in rags;, his body, always lean, now looked almost too wiry to be healthy. His skin was hot to the touch and dry.

Dark eyes, glazed with pain and exhaustion, met Rhodes’. There was a determination there that the pilot recognized. It was the old fire that had always driven Tony. It was alive and burning, but it was currently drowned by the pain from various injuries.

“Made it,” Tony breathed, voice barely recognizable.

“Yeah. You made it.” Rhodey knew he was grinning like an idiot.

The discovery of the arc reactor came as a shock. At first he believed it was a bomb, but the insistence of the weak man in his arms and the strange appearance of the device had him confused.

Not a bomb?

The crew of the helicopter swarmed around him. The medic was trying to get a better look at his patient and Rhodey reluctanlyt relinquished his hold. Tony’s good hand clenched around his wrist and there was a sudden fear in his eyes.

“I’m not leaving,” Rhodes reassured him.

And he didn’t. He was by Tony’s side as he was put on a stretcher and placed into the evac ‘copter. He was there when the medic inserted an IV and pushed the solution into the starved body. He watched as the medic examined Tony, cleaned the bullet wound, checked the abrasions and bruises. He was there when they wheeled him into the medical wing, now filled with a mild dose of painkillers. And he was there to tell the doctors, nurses and the helicopter crew about Top Secret Things, about keeping their mouths shut concerning the device inside Tony Stark, and that he would handle matters.

On the flight home from Afghanistan forty-eight hours later, and all throughout the hours on the military plane, Rhodes had watched his friend. He had seen lines where there had never been any before. The exhaustion had lingered, even though Tony had been fed, his injuries had been treated thoroughly, and he had slept.

The nightmares hadn’t made it through yet. But they would. Rhodes knew they would.

 

He had been at Tony’s side ever since. Through the furious upheaval that followed Stark’s announcement that his company would stop weapons production. Through the surprise of finding out that Tony had become some kind of avenger, taking on the people who had abducted him.  
Tony had changed course in everything, his life and his company, from there. Rhodey had wondered about Tony’s sanity in the beginning, but he had come to see and understand a lot more in the recent year. Stark had never stopped working with the military, he had just changed focus. That focus had at first seemed like post-traumatic stress induced, but after two years and too many top secret meetings for Rhodey to count, he understood a lot more than ever before. He had been brought in on projects that he had never believed even possible to exist. He had been given access to places that made Area 51 seem like Disneyland.

He had met the Autobots.

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Nellis Airforce Base was busy as usual and he threaded his way through the cars and people until he reached a hangar far outside the regular airfields. It had highly restricted access and he had been through two checkpoints before he had reached the gates of the extra fence around it. From the outside it looked like one of the older hangars, awaiting deconstruction, but Rhodey had been here before and he knew it was far from that. It was also so far out of the way, at the very end of the sprawling base, that casual passer-byes didn’t happen.

Parking his jeep he got out and smiled at the man waiting to greet him. Tall, dark-haired, looking very smart in his uniform, Captain Michael Bowman was the typical flyboy, in Rhodes’ eyes. A flyboy himself, he knew the pride that pilots took in their job. And like Bowman he had flown less and less the further his career advanced. It was a shame.

“Colonel Rhodes,” Bowman saluted him and they shook hands.

“Captain,” he replied, nodding at the Nellis liaison.

He had met Bowman several times before and he had been impressed by the man’s ease when it came to interacting with the Autobots. Of course, he had been involved in the secrecy a lot longer than Rhodes himself. He had had some time to work through the novelty and the shock that came with the knowledge.

There was a chirruping sound and Rhodey grinned at the tiny mechanoid life form he had come to know as Wi-Fi. The Nokia cell phone sat on Bowman’s shoulder, red optics regarding him curiously. Rhodes had been very surprised to hear about a lot of things that had happened in the past ten years, even before that, and the existence of life created by the Allspark out of normal human machines had been… fearsome.

Yes, he was a little bit afraid of the machines, but no more than he was of Iron Man. Not Tony Stark, but the man his friend became when he donned the armor and turned into an opponent to be reckoned with. Here was something the military hadn’t been able to prepare him for and the past two years had meant learning a lot anew.

Others before him had managed. He would, too, and had to an extent already.

“Mr. Stark arrived ten minutes ago,” Bowman informed him.

“He’s really here before me? On time?” Rhodey laughed. “Will miracles never cease?”

Bowman chuckled. “I think his ride got him here on time.”

Rhodey saw the ‘ride’ the moment they stepped into the hangar. Silver, sleek, hunkering down like a predator, the Audi R8 was an impressive car that had Rhodey drooling from the day Tony had gotten it. He had driven it once or twice, not knowing who or what it was, and it had been one cool ride.

“Hey, Hot Rod,” he greeted their resident Autobot.

“Good morning, Colonel Rhodes,” came the polite reply.

“Where is he?”

The Audi sat alone in the large hangar, looking like an expensive toy of a billionaire. It was, except that this ‘toy’ was an alien life form.

“Coffee run,” Hot Rod chuckled.

“Didn’t you feed him enough caffeine before you guys took off?” Rhodey asked, amused.

“Pepper made sure he was well-caffeinated. I think it’s just an instinctive reaction to the closeness of a coffee machine,” Hot Rod replied with the same amusement.

“I heard that, Roddy.”

“I was hoping you would.”

Rhodes grinned. Stark had straightened from one of the laptops on the near-by table, almost hidden behind what looked like the model of an engine. He was dressed in a completely casual outfit. He could be anyone in his faded jeans, black shirt and black leather jacket. His hair was tousled. The boots looked decades old.

“Hey, Rhodey. Welcome to the show.”

Tony grinned irrepressibly, toasting him with an extra-large mug of coffee.

“Knowing you, it’ll be a good one.”

“Ah, never say I don’t give the audience what they want.”

The meeting was actually in front of a very select audience. Rhodes was here as the military representative. Bowman didn’t fill those shoes since he was liaison and responsible for smooth operations between the Autobots, their human soldier unit and Nellis. Rhodes knew that Banachek would be present, as well as Optimus Prime and Ironhide. That meant Will Lennox, too. Maybe even Sam Witwicky.

Ever since Tony had crashed in the Arctic – flying over a restricted military area – and found out about the Ghost-2, he had moved heaven and hell to keep himself involved in the project. He wanted to be among those going up to the Ark, checking on her systems, determining whether she be scrapped and recycled or used as a first defense. Tony would be a winner either way because he finally would get to go up into space.

Like a little kid, Rhodey mused. A boy and his toys… A billionaire and genius, able to buy what he wanted, do what he pleased...

His first impression of the man some fifteen years ago had been ‘asshole’. As first impressions went, it had been the correct one. Arrogant prick and asshole. Tony Stark had owned the world, had had money and women and success and fast cars. He flaunted his wealth, he made no secret of who he was, and he was an attention whore. Rhodes, a Second Lieutenant back then, hadn’t understood what the US military actually wanted of this guy. He was clearly in for the money and even if his father had been a big-shot on the Manhattan Project, the son was far from the genius everyone believed of him.

At least that had been Rhodes’ impression.

To his chagrin he had been given babysitting duty. He was assigned to Stark as personal guide and bodyguard when he was on base for something or other. It had been an assignment Rhodes had detested.

Until he had once walked in on Stark in his workshop. Rhodes, now a First Lieutenant, had stared at the man he couldn’t believe was Tony Stark. Stained t-shirt, washed out jeans, old sneakers, hair uncombed, looking like he hadn’t slept for days, working furiously on something Rhodes could only guess wildly what it was. It had been such a contrast to the suave and well-groomed Stark.

After that, Rhodes had learned to look past the bluster and shiny outside. He spent more time with Tony – which was also the time they went from ‘Lieutenant’ and ‘Mr. Stark’ to ‘Rhodey’ and ‘Tony’. Rhodey learned that the rumors were true, that Tony was a whiz kid, and that his brain truly did come up with the most outrageous ideas that actually worked. Rising through the ranks, Rhodes had never been transferred anywhere else. He suspected Tony had had his hands in that, but he had never been able to prove it.

He was liaison to Stark Industries, Tony Stark’s best friend, and he was one of maybe only a handful, if at all that many, who knew the man for real – and got away with still calling him an asshole.

The arrival of a huge, black Topkick drew him out of his musings. It was an impressive vehicle and Rhodes almost stepped back as the massive machine transformed into an even more impressive mechanoid. The man who had accompanied him was well-known to Rhodey, too. Ex-Army Ranger Will Lennox. Lennox greeted them with a firm handshake and Rhodey tried not to stare too much at the runes on the man’s face. That was something even more shocking than alien robots. This was a human being who had been altered permanently by something alien.

Hot Rod had transformed too, watching everything with alert optics. Just like Ironhide kept with his human friend, Hot Rod was closest to Tony, who didn’t seem to notice. Rhodey smirked. Stark needed all the babysitters he could get.

“C’mon, Rhodey, let’s not keep the fans waiting,” Tony announced, still grinning.

Bowman smiled a little and nodded at him to go ahead. Preparing himself for the meeting, Rhodey walked after Tony, followed by Lennox and Ironhide. Hot Rod remained behind, just like Bowman.

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Tony had been in his element, Rhodes mused. You could put the man in front of a group of kindergarten kids and he’d still have them riveted to their seats, no sniffles, no crying, no potty breaks demanded. Tony was simply that good. And he knew it, the smug bastard. Still, watching him work his audience was always fascinating.

There was still no final decision on when the Ghost-2 would launch again, this time with the mission to dock at the Ark. It would carry two Autobots with it, which meant changing the ship to lift that much cargo. Tony wanted a piece of that. He wanted in on the reconstruction, as well as on the later plans for the Ark. Rhodes had watched Tony as he presented his company’s assets, as he made his case like a lawyer in front of a jury. Stark Industries had been dealing with Cybertron Tech ever since Tony’s great-grandfather. That the man had been one of the original founders of Sector Seven was both a blessing and a curse. No other company in the United States was better able to pull off what the military and the mechs needed.

“You didn’t ask for our help with the interface,” Tony had pointed out.

His eyes had been filled with intense passion, his voice controlled and powerful. Rhodey had felt his respect for his friend rise another notch.

“You’d be scraping together the fragments of failure with the first mission if not for my help,” he had added ruthlessly. “Stark Industries knows what you’re dealing with. We do nothing but work with hybrid technology!”

Tony had the knowledge, the resources and the experience to make something impossible possible. He could use all the energy he had put into weapons manufacturing to get the Autobots what they needed to turn the Ark into a defense satellite. It was possible.

And he would do it.

“That went well,” Tony declared as they left the conference room. He was beaming at him like a kid who had gotten what he wanted for Christmas, and more.

“You think?” Rhodey teased.

“Hey, they’d be crazy not to let me work on this.”

“Crazy versus eccentric mad genius…”

“A little loyalty here!” Tony muttered, but his eyes were laughing.

“You have more loyalty than you deserve.”

Hot Rod still sat where he had parked and Bowman was next to him, apparently talking to the Autobot guardian. Wi-Fi was perched on Hot Rod’s hood, tapping his tiny legs.

“You scratch it, you pay,” Tony remarked.

Wi-Fi chirped indignantly.

“He can hardly damage my paint job,” Hot Rod replied calmly. “It takes more than a micro-mech to do that.”

“Hey, I’m paying for it. I can be worried.”

“Don’t.”

Bowman scooped his little friend up and the Nokia transformed back into cell phone mode. He slipped the cell into his pocket.

“I take it your meeting went well,” the captain remarked.

“Wonderful, perfect, like a charm. We’ll be seeing a lot of each other, Mike,” Tony answered, smiling more.

“You know my number.”

“Ready to get home or do you want to wait for your buddies?” Tony addressed Hot Rod.

The answer was the driver’s door opening.

“See you, Rhodey. Mike.”

And then the Audi tore out of the hangar. Rhodey shook his head, a tolerant smile on his face.

“You gotta wonder about Banachek’s change of mind,” Bowman remarked. “Six months ago he wouldn’t have given the idea a second thought. Now Stark’s into the whole mission already.”

“Tony’s persistent.”

“I noticed.”

The two men shared a knowing smile.

“Banachek would have been crazy not to involve Tony,” Rhodes then said. “I know you guys have Sam and a whole bunch of really talented engineers, but Tony is a class of its own. He says he can do it, he will.”

“The more allies the better,” Bowman agreed. “Even if they’re eccentric billionaires with weird hobbies.”

“Amen to that.”

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“You impressed them,” Hot Rod remarked as they drove along Highway 95, heading for Las Vegas.

“I did?” Tony wanted to know, already smiling.

“Yes.”

“Who told you?”

“Ironhide contacted me. I think you have a fan. He studied your weapons manufacturing before you ever came into the picture personally and he knows your potential.”

“Cool. A fan.”

Hot Rod chuckled. “Probably.”

“So… they’re impressed, huh?” Tony’s voice was a little quieter now. “I hope enough to bring me on in person. I want this, Hot Rod. Not just for kicks, but because it’s… it’s space and space flight!”

“You have my vote. Even if that vote is tainted by the knowledge that you just want to test your armor in space.”

Tony chuckled. “I’m not that cheap.” He grew serious. “I know what the deal is, what the stakes are. I want to test the armor, sure, but it’s not my main goal.”

“Optimus knows it. It’s why he agreed, too.”

“I’m honored.” No sarcasm. Just the truth. “Check my schedule, Roddy?”

“You’re free for the next twenty-four hours. Why?”

“Las Vegas is just a few miles away…”

Hot Rod sighed.

“Hey, it’ll be fun!”

“I’m the one sitting in the parking lot.”

“You could chat up a nice Corvette.”

A groan. “That’s so bad coming from you, Tony.”

“Seriously,” Stark laughed. “I just want to have a little down time. A few rounds of poker, some dice, maybe some old fashioned one-armed bandit gambling. No harm.”

Another sigh, but Hot Rod didn’t fight for control over his alt form as Tony headed for downtown. He simply sent a message to Jarvis, informing him of their delay. The AI would in turn inform Pepper, who would probably read Tony the riot act.

Nothing new there.

Business as usual.

 

 

 

 

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III. Blueprint

 

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Tony Stark’s mind was a scary place to be. At least for someone who couldn’t understand how the man’s brain worked. It was a busy place, cluttered, seemingly disorganized, processing several new ideas at once while the man himself worked on a car engine or was fiddling with the repulsors of the Iron Man armor.

Controlled chaos. Inside and out. His workshop reflected his mind. It was cluttered, it was filled with what looked like junk but actually which was something very refined and important, and no one but Stark knew where everything was. Computer screens filled one corner, displaying images of projects he worked on, schematics, equations, notes. Helpful computer arms descended whenever an additional pair of hands was needed, or a drone would assist without Tony even asking for it. Jarvis kept a close sensor on the events in the workshop, always monitoring, commenting, remarking, or answering the demands of his master.

Tony would forget time and space and the order of the universe when he was working on something. He wouldn’t accept limitations, he would go back and doggedly work on something until his brain either decided he really couldn’t do anything with it, or it worked. He would also forget about food, so Pepper would bring him something – placing it close to the work table, in easy reach – fill up on coffee, or suggest sleep. She knew Jarvis monitored Tony’s physical condition and would remind him, too, but Stark could ignore the AI. Pepper wasn’t easily swayed when on a mission.

Since the revelation who the Audi R8 was, Tony had spent a lot of time with Hot Rod – while also working on the armor or weaponry. Part of him was itching to take a closer look at the mechanoid, another was careful not to offend his ally. It was a new concept for him: trying not to offend. The man the world knew, Anthony Stark, billionaire and playboy, couldn’t care less on whose toes he trod on. He knew who and what he was, and how much in demand his person was, too. He was rather straight-forward in his advances and people knew it.

The man who had come back from Afghanistan had been changed. He had approached the world at a different speed and pace, and with a different attitude. Stark Industries had turned around, had stopped the weapons manufacturing and had changed gears. Medical research, aeronautics, space exploration and computer defense systems had become the new playing field. A very successful playing field, too. Tony never did anything half-heartedly.

Looking like the scruffiest car mechanic in the worst part of town, Tony was surveying the improvements he had made to the armor. He had it in his head to improve speed and maneuverability of the suit. In particular the muscle-exoskeleton interface needed serious reworking. It had been a night filled with curses and hard thinking when his initial idea had back-fired – literally. Part of the wall still bore the evidence and his shoulder smarted. But he thought he had the problem fixed.

Hopefully.

Glancing at the Audi parked close by, Tony entertained the idea of rearranging the workshop’s size to give Hot Rod the ability to change form if he wanted to. Right now he would have to kneel, but if he took out part of the floor panels… or he could have the floor system transform, too. The whole machinery that enabled Tony to put on the armor was already in the underground levels that also housed a lot of delicate equipment. A lot was underneath those solid layers of concrete that only Tony himself knew about. He could have Jarvis refit the forward section of the workshop.

His brain started ticking again.

“Hot Rod?”

“Yes, Tony?”

“I’ve been thinking… Do you actually need servicing?”

There was a moment of silence, then, “Not in a human sense.” Hot Rod sounded amused.

Tony walked past the armor and looked at his friend. “No regular oil checks?” he teased.

“No. My systems repair themselves. Only greater battle damage or long neglect warrants a medic.”

“Like Ratchet.”

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

Stark shrugged. “Offering,” he replied.

“It’s appreciated but unnecessary.” Hot Rod shifted a little on his shocks. “You’re curious, aren’t you?” he asked, still amused.

Tony smiled. “Who wouldn’t be? And I looked under your hood… well under the trunk in the back. Your camouflage circuits are good. The engine looks perfect.”

“Thank you. We survive on that trait, so it’s near-perfect.” He was silent for a moment. “I would be willing to offer you a... peek,” he then added.

Tony stared. For a moment all thought stood still at the immensity of that offer. “You would?” he croaked.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I trust you,” Hot Rod simply said, coming back to a conversation they had had close to two months ago. “And because I might need your expertise and help should Ratchet not be available.”

This was big. Really big. Bigger than anything Tony had ever been entrusted with. For the first time in a long time he felt his mouth go dry with the prospect of what this entailed, felt his nerves rise, and his stomach clenched. It even drowned the excited voice that shouted ‘hell, yeah!’ over and over.

“I’m not a mechanoid engineer, Hot Rod.”

“But you adapt easily to new technology. You handle our own technology and the hybrid systems. The armor itself is a hybrid version of what you built as the Mark I and later the Mark II,” the Autobot explained. “I know exactly what I’m offering, Tony. I’m not naïve or stupid.”

“Never said so.” Tony regarded the sleek car steadily. “You’re volunteering to let me snoop around?”

“To a degree. It stops at my spark,” Hot Rod replied.

Which was the equivalent of a heart and soul.

Tony nodded. “Fair.” He wouldn’t let anyone but himself or Jarvis touch the arc reactor either. “So… this is what? A truce?”

“I didn’t think we were fighting, Tony.”

He chuckled. “We still haven’t resolved the whole trust issue.”

A soft hum emanated from the car. “I trust you.”

And Tony was starting to. There was trust and then there was trust. He trusted Hot Rod not to do anything to kill him, but then there was the personal matter of trust. Trusting the mechanoid with more than what he saw. Trust him with both Tony himself and the Iron Man. Trust him enough to see more than just an ally or a bodyguard in him.

“Getting there,” he murmured. “Getting there.”

Tony walked over to the car, circled it, looked at the perfect replica of an Audi, wondering again how the mechanoids crammed all that tech into a shell that supposedly didn’t even fit all the parts. He wanted to find out, look at each individual servo and muscle cable, system and wire. It was his chance to learn more about how to improve his armor, how to minimize the bulk without losing the shields.

Cooperation.

Give a little, get a little more.

He smiled more. He could so this. He knew he could.

“So, you ready to get serious on that offer?” he asked.

“What do you want to do, Tony?”

“Well, let’s start with system schematics. I’m not going to poke around your innards without a blueprint.”

Hot Rod chuckled. “I should hope not.”

“And I want to know how that whole protoform business with the trans-scanning works.” Excitement burned through Tony. “What’s the conversion rate? How does it influence your energon output and input? How do you convert conventional fuel into energon without clogging your systems? And the skin… You can repair yourselves easily when there’s just scratches, but tears need longer, though you can work on that without external help if given time, right?”

“Anything else?” Hot Rod laughed, interrupting.

“Are you humoring me?” he asked suspiciously at the tone of voice.

“No.”

“Liar.”

“I should have known,” Hot Rod said, still amused. “Offer you a hand, you take the whole planet.”

Tony grinned irrepressibly.

“I’ll upload what you ask into Jarvis,” the mech continued.

Tony looked at the screens of his work station, eyes alight with the intensity he felt with. Schematics were being uploaded.

“Thanks,” he said, voice suddenly quiet. “I won’t abuse that trust.”

Hot Rod only hummed softly, watching as Stark sat down almost reverently in front of the screens and started to read.

 

 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 

IV. Bust

 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“Power levels at 85%.”

Tony grinned inside his helmet, eyes on the sky while simultaneously checking the read-outs of the Heads-Up-Display. The HUD gave him height, speed, temperature, wind direction, also scanning for objects in the area.

“Power at 75%, sir,” Jarvis informed him.

The rapid decline was one flaw in the armor-arc reactor interface. Tony had spent weeks slaving over the conversion rate, trying to find out where the energy was used up most, and it all came down to the shields and the thrusters. But he needed the shields and he needed thrust.

So he needed a better reactor.

“Power at 68%.”

The moment he dropped to fifty percent he knew he wasn’t able to use any kind of heavy weaponry that drew additionally on the power source. That meant he was defenseless while flying this high.

Not good.

“You have reached eighty thousand feet, sir.”

Tony grinned wildly. Euphoria raced through him. He had reached the height of a SR-71 Blackbird.

A red warning sign started to flash.

“Severe power depletion. You are at 43%,” Jarvis translated the warning.

“I’m still fine,” he insisted, still going up.

The edge of the Stratosphere was his aim. 160,000 feet. He could do this. He could. He would…

More alarms flashed. His suit was suddenly dropping below 28 % and fast.

“Hell!” he hissed.

He had been so far. Just a little bit more. Just… a… little…

And then his thrusters sputtered, the alarms shrill and unmistakable now.

“No! Damnit!”

The descent was fast, more of a fall and plunge, but Tony managed to regain control halfway back to the ground. The armor seemed to glare at him, the warnings still there at the edge of his vision, a reminder of his failure. The arc reactor wasn’t strong enough. Never strong enough.

Tony used the repulsors to keep himself on an even keel and finally landed. It was a little less graceful than usual and the hard landing rattled his teeth. Well, it actually had him bouncing head over heels and laying a deep groove into the ground until he slammed into a boulder and came to a stop. At least he hadn’t crashed through the roof of his home this time, which was a good thing. He had managed to land next to the helicopter landing pad and then ended up halfway toward the driveway.

Damn, this’ll bruise!

The gentle vibrations he felt through the heavy boots alerted him to the approach of his guardian. Hot Rod’s optics glowed softly in the darkness, the silver and black body barely reflecting the light.

“Don’t say it!” Tony snapped.

“I wasn’t.”

“Good.”

He pulled the helmet off, the night breeze tousling his hair. According to the last display of the HUD the arc reactor was recharging, but it would need a while.

“The results were better than last time,” Hot Rod finally said.

“I told you not to say anything!”

“I was going to say you’re an idiot and a reckless adrenaline junky,” the mech told him, sounding way too amused for Tony’s liking. “But I didn’t.”

“Well, good for you!”

Tony stomped past the much taller figure, heading for the entrance to the workshop and garage. Hot Rod followed. The mech transformed as he rolled down the ramp. Tony walked over to where Jarvis was already waiting to help him get out of the armor.

“Had a good flight, sir?” the AI asked.

“And you can just stuff it as well, Jarvis,” he ground out.

“Very well, sir.”

Somehow the failure grated on him. He had been so sure. The numbers had been right! The equations had been perfect! The simulations… had just been simulations and the practical test had been crappy and a failure. Tony tore his hands out of the gauntlets, angry and disappointed. When he was finally free of the suit he padded over to the work station, still in the black undergarment, and called up the tech specs.

Everything looked perfect.

It worked like shit.

Tony sank into his chair and dropped his head back against the head rest. His thoughts churned. The arc reactor alone wasn’t working. He needed more power, a kind of back-up unit that was safe from possible outside damage through energy blasts and bullets. More weight, heavier shields…  
Vicious circle. His fingers flew over the keyboard and he entered new commands.

“Tony.”

He ignored the mech and kept on altering some variables

“Tony, please.”

“Shut up.”

“I’d advise you to sleep first. You’re exhausted.”

Tony whirled around in his chair and glared at the car. “What gives you the authority to scan me?!” he demanded.

“I didn’t. I don’t have to.”

“Jarvis!”

“Yes, sir?”

“Are you relaying internal sensor data to Hot Rod?”

“Yes, sir,” came the neutral reply.

Tony felt his anger boil. First the failure in his suit and now his own creation was betraying him!

“Why?” he demanded.

“Because we worry about you, sir.”

“What?!”

“Lack of proper sleep leads to loss of concentration which in turn leads to mistakes made where you normally wouldn’t make any,” Jarvis replied. “You are exhausted.”

Jarvis worried? When had he programmed him to worry? And when had the AI started to talk to their guest?

“You are being stubborn,” Hot Rod stated.

“He usually is,” Jarvis commented dryly.

“Shut up! Both of you! I don’t need baby-sitters!”

“I beg to differ. Sir.”

Tony felt a headache coming. “This is what I get for creating an advanced computer system.”

“You’re getting friends,” Hot Rod said, rolling closer. “And the armor can wait. Let Jarvis run the diagnostics. Get some sleep, Tony. You can do the next test flight the moment the errors have been solved.”

Tony ran a hand through his tousled hair. Errors. Right. The errors were the power and how much the armor used up of it. He fingered the arc reactor resting prominently on his chest. It didn’t feel warm. There was never any warmth. His finger tips traced every ridge and he still mulled over how to make it more efficient. The reactor and the suit.

“There were no errors,” he finally said, voice low. “It just won’t work.”

“You’re giving up?” Hot Rod sounded surprised.

Tony chuckled darkly. “Not so novel. But no, I’m not giving up. I just need a different take on it.”

He got up and walked over to where Jarvis had reassembled the suit and had it hanging down from the supports. Cables were trailing out of the power sockets. Tony ran a caress over the smooth metal.

Then he suddenly turned on his heels and walked out the workshop, up the stairs, and was gone.

 

Hot Rod sat in bemused silence. Finally,

“Jarvis?”

“Yes?”

“Where did he go?”

“You could use your access to the sensor net,” the AI replied instead of answering the question.

Hot Rod chuckled. “I could. I just didn’t. So, where is he?”

“You want me to spy on him,” Jarvis told him, sounding slightly piqued. “And Mr. Stark is currently heading for the shower. I believe he will take your advice and sleep afterwards.”

“You think?”

“Yes. I’ve known him a bit longer than you.”

“Which is good,” the mech agreed. “He can be very aggravating and stubborn.”

“You have no idea,” came the long-suffering sigh.


End file.
